


If Not While I'm Living (Maybe When I'm Dead)

by Hunter_Caprittarius



Category: Arthurian Mythology, King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Established Relationship, Gawain and Lancelot aren't mentioned but they're there, M/M, Not Beta Read, Sad with a Happy Ending, Secret Relationship, they just didn't talk about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:02:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25009663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hunter_Caprittarius/pseuds/Hunter_Caprittarius
Summary: Tristan and Dagonet.(I just watched King Arthur, like, sixteen years late. And even though this fandom is really small I am heartbroken by the lack of Tristan x Dagonet content! They're perfect for each other! This is my meager first attempt to fix that a little.)
Relationships: Dagonet/Tristan (King Arthur 2004)
Kudos: 3





	If Not While I'm Living (Maybe When I'm Dead)

**Author's Note:**

> I got one-third of the way through writing the fic and then it got DELETED!! And I had to start over! AAAAAA!

The Saxons were going down in rows, stuck full of arrows like living pin cushions. But they weren’t going down fast enough. The enemy army was making steady progress across the ice. A few meters further and the knights would be in danger from Saxon arrows.

According to Arthur’s command, Tristan and Bors were targeting the enemy flanks with their arrows, hoping to make the approaching army clump together enough to break through the ice. But it was proving futile. The Saxon leader had caught on to their ploy too soon, whipping his soldiers back into place with threats of death, and the ice was holding fast.

They all realized that their current strategy wasn’t working, but only Dagonet jumped into action. He broke rank and sprinted across the ice, ax in hand, towards the Saxons, screaming a bloody battle cry.

Bors noticed him first, screaming, “Dagonet!”

Arthur was quick to react, changing strategies. “Cover him!” Arthur shouted.

Halfway between the knight and the Saxons, and very much in the enemy’s firing range, Dagonet stopped. He hoisted his ax into the air and brought it down on the ice. IT splintered but did not break, so he struck it again and again.

The Saxon archers soon had all of their fire concentrated on Dagonet.

Tristan’s heart leaped into his throat as he watched. He wanted to run to Dagonet but found himself frozen in place. He wanted to scream his name like Bors had, but couldn’t do that either. All he could do was keep firing arrows and pray to the gods that he was quick enough to take out all of the enemy archers before they hit Dagonet. 

He failed.

One arrow plunged into Dagonet’s side, ripping through his leather armor. A second arrow soon followed, succeeded by a third, then a fourth.

With a row of arrows down his side, Dagonet lifted his ax one last time and slammed it onto the ice with a resounding _crack!_

Tristan heard Dagonet’s body hit the ground, but he didn’t see it, he refused to look.

The ice broke apart and Saxon soldiers screamed as they were engulfed in freezing water. Any survivors were struck down by Tristan’s bow. 

When his last arrow was fired, Tristan dropped his bow. It hit the ice with a clatter. All around him people were crying out, friend and foe alike, but Tristan remained quiet. He finally allowed himself to look at Dagonet, whose limp form was being dragged across back by Arthur and Bors.

The other knights were screaming, some of them were crying. Tristan just bent down to collect his arrows. Not a tear was shed, his face didn’t even twitch. He was completely numb, and not from the cold. Slinging his quiver and bow over his shoulder, Tristan turned around and walked off the lake without looking back. 

Later, Galahad would rage at him and strike him across the face. He would call Tristan a heartless monster. “Don’t you feel anything? Have we not fought together for _fifteen years_?” Galahad would shout, shoving Tristan to the ground, “You’re happy as long as people are dying, regardless of which side they’re on! You’re an animal, Tristan.”

The rest of the knights would watch on with varying reactions, from Arthur’s leveled gaze to Bors downright hostility, but none of them would interfere. And Tristen would just lay in the dirt, saying nothing, letting Galahad beat him. When Galahad eventually got worn out, he would leave and the rest of the knights would follow. 

But it would all be fine. Tristan didn’t need them to know just how much Dagonet had meant to him. They didn’t need to know about silent exchanges of love, gentle hands, or Tristan and Dagonet’s plans for the future. They didn’t need to know the way Tristan’s heart had shattered into a million pieces that had been left on the lake where Dagonet died.

Tristan would lay there until his hawk came home and settled down next to him, ruffling her feathers at him. Only then would Tristan cry.

<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>

After Dagonet’s death, Tristan was left hollow and stony. He went from speaking seldomly to practically mute. Every task was carried out with the bare minimum of effort. He just couldn’t bring himself to care; freedom meant nothing to him now that Dagonet was gone.

The only thing that mattered any more was the fight, he threw himself into it recklessly and with no regard for his own wellbeing. He let himself become the violence-oriented ruffian Galahad and the others already believed him to be.

When he saw the Cerdic across the battlefield, he immediately recognized the huge blonde man as the leader. And he threw himself at the man. The fight was a blur.

A few minutes later saw Tristan on the ground with a dagger through his right arm and his sword abandoned somewhere behind him. Even after Cerdic had gone easy on him, Tristan just didn’t have it in him to go on. It was only his primal instinct to survive that had him crawling away from his death.

Cerdic came up behind him and grabbed a fist full of his hair, pulling his head back. Then Cerdic scanned the battlefield for someone to show off his kill to, Arthur probably. _Ha,_ though Tristan, genuinely amused and only a little bitter, _as if any of them will care. I wonder if they’ll mourn me._

As Cerdic looked around, Tristan looked to the sky. His hawk was making lazy circles above him as if to say goodbye. It brought a smile to his face.

Finally, Cerdic locked eyes with Arthur and the Saxon spared little time in striking Tristan down. After that, he tossed Tristan aside. 

The battle raged on around Tristan as he bled out in the dirt, but the sounds of war, the screaming and the clashing of metal on metal, were becoming quieter by the second. Despite all of the furs he was wearing, Tristan felt cold. Then, just as the world went silent and Tristan went numb, he saw a bright golden light.

At first, he thought it was the sun, but then it came closer and Tristan could see it was a man. A man in studded leather armor and a dozen scars stood over him with a gentle smile on his face.

_“Come on, Tristan, it’s time to go,”_ said Dagonet, holding out a hand for Tristan to take. Tristan took it and allowed himself to be hoisted up. He stared into Dagonet’s warm eyes, they were full of love.

_“I missed you,”_ whispered Tristan softly.

_“I know,”_ said Dagonet.

And then they went hand in hand across the battlefield. Safe, happy, together. Forever. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to point out any mistakes/grammatical errors.


End file.
